The Plague Pt 7
Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby
Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) maybe some spoilers for Dead Man’s Blood.
Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional “breeders” must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.
The paramedics had insisted on taking John to the hospital, and Bobby followed along in his truck. Dean had been sitting on the sofa in the living room since the ambulance had left. He glanced at the clock; it was just a little past . He yawned; Sam had disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him. Dean didn’t have the energy to try talking to his younger brother, so he settled back on the couch, and drifted off to sleep.
The phone rang at six, and Dean staggered to the kitchen to pick it up. He flopped down into one of the breakfast table chairs and flicked the phone on. Bobby was on the other end, and he seemed a little hesitant. Dean felt his stomach flip.
“Bobby, did Dad lose the baby?”
“No, he’s fine. We’re coming home as soon as I get John checked out of the hospital and loaded into the truck. He’s really torn up about the fight he had with Sam though.”
Sam sat on the rear of the Impala looking at the assorted collection of junk he had managed to gather on the porch of Bobby's house. It was the second time in his life that he was leaving, the second screaming fight he'd had with his father, and it was going to be the last. Dean was pissed at him Sam knew, but he couldn't muster the energy to care.
He heard the hollow clocking of boot heels on the wooden boards of the porch and didn't bother to look up. Dean walked to the rear of the car just waiting for Sam to say something. Finally, when the silence got to be too much Sam turned to him and said.
"I know what you're going to say, Dean. I'm sick and tired of Dad messing up my life."
"You're so full of shit, Sam. Dad didn't mess up our lives. Okay, he may never get a PTA award for father of the year but he did the best he could. He kept us strong, and he kept us alive. We’ve seen too many people die from the things we hunt, to not know it could have happened to us any time."
"Oh yeah, he kept us alive but he also kept us from living."
"Don't argue semantics with me, Sammy." With a glare Dean pulled Sam off the car, hauling him upright. "You had your shot at living. You went to Stanford you had your chance at a fairytale life, with Cinderella. And look where it got you. Did you really think that because you walked out on me and Dad that you'd get off scot-free? Well, you didn't and Jessica paid the price."
"That's not fair, Dean. All I wanted was a normal life, a home, and a family."
"That's bullshit; there are no white-picket fences for people like us, Sam. We've seen too much, we know too much. And you have a family - me, Dad and now Bobby and that baby in Dad's belly. We're your family. Dad has one last shot at a happy ending, and you or me, we're not going to take that away from him. You're not going anywhere, we're going to stay here and let him have this baby in peace."
Sam turned a grim faced look on his brother.
"And six months after the baby is born? What are we going to do when Dad is the one on the ceiling with his belly cut open and the house is burning?"
"It's not gonna happen, me and Bobby…"
"And what about me and you? If we ever manage to make a baby, are we going to go through the same thing?"
"I'm telling you Sammy, it's not going to happen. Not as long as I'm alive."
Sam relaxed visibly.
“Dean, I don’t think I can do this. Growing up with Dad, just the three of us, I was always so outside of everything that you and he did. I never understood his need for vengeance. I know the two of you thought I was walking out on the family, but I wasn’t. I was never a part of it to begin with. And I’m not saying that it’s Dad’s fault. He did the best he could. I think he bent as much as he could for me without breaking, but it wasn’t what I wanted.”
“Maybe it was what you needed.”
Sam shrugged as he bent down picking up his duffle-bag and hauling it back into the house. Dean let out pent up breath and began collecting bags, and boxes. Between the two of them they had all of Sam’s belonging back in the bedroom before Bobby’s truck pulled up in the driveway.
Dean hurried to the door watching as Bobby went around and opened the door for his Dad. John slid out of the truck slowly, holding himself stiffly and limped to the door. He smiled at Dean patting his shoulder in passing. Dean got an arm around John and helped him into the room.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just threw my back out a little. I’ll be as good as new in a couple of days. The baby’s fine.”
Dean got John settled on the sofa and Bobby appeared with a glass of juice and a white-capped prescription bottle. He grinned at Dean.
“He’ll be better than fine in a little bit. Wait until you see him stoned on Demerol. It’s hilarious.”
“You have a sick sense of humor, you old bastard,” John snorted.
There seemed to be an uneasy truce between Sam and John after that. They didn’t say much to each other but they didn't constantly hover just on the edge of violence either. John’s back healed quickly and by the time of his second pre-natal check up he was feeling much better.
This time John and Bobby both tried to sit comfortably in the waiting room to the doctor’s office. The couples around them were all younger and John was irked at being stared at. Finally, when yet another Generation Xer cast a strange glance in his direction John erupted.
“What are staring at, huh?”
“Johnny, don’t get upset.” Bobby hauled him back into his seat, and John shrugged the older man off.
“They act like we’re two steps from an old folk’s home or a graveyard. I am not old, damn it.”
“Of course you’re not old, honey,” Bobby said patting him on the arm. John shot him a look that could frost an active volcano. Bobby just heaved a sigh.
The doctor was more cheerful than John thought any human being had a right to be. She took John's blood pressure and weight.
"Well, you've actually lost a little weight, are you having problems with morning sickness, or loss of appetite?"
Bobby answered before John could even open his mouth.
"Yeah, he's sick a lot. Not just in the morning either."
The doctor smiled at him.
"I'm so glad that you've decided to be an active partner in John's pregnancy, Mr. Singer."
John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you don't have to live with him. But he's right I am sick to my stomach a lot."
"I'll give you a prescription for Compazine; it will help with the nausea and vomiting. It's safe for the baby, and you can take it every six hours if necessary. I'm a little concerned about your blood pressure; it's a little higher than last visit. Have you been under stress?"
"I fell off the porch and threw my back out," John said hedging a little.
Bobby shot him a look.
"And he had a huge fight with his son."
Dean settled into a chair beside Sam, finally he took the book out of his brother's hand. Sam glanced at him sighing.
"Sammy, I've been thinking, maybe Dad and Bobby are right. I think we're going about this the wrong way."
Sam offered him a sardonic smiled, and Dean whacked him on the back of the head. He continued.
"Not that, I'm pretty sure we're doing that the right way. I think we're trying too hard. Can't we start over on this thing? No books, no expectations just try to have a good time. Take it easy, you know, just go with the flow a little. See if that shakes things up. And I think we should get out of the house. I don't know why but you seem to be getting real competitive with Dad about this baby making stuff. Dad and Bobby were just kidding around and you're taking it too seriously."
"I didn't mean too. And I didn't mean to hurt Dad or the baby."
"We all know that. Bobby and Dad aren't mad. Beside Dad and the baby are fine."
That evening after dinner, the four of them sat on the porch talking. Sam and Dean were contemplating leaving again on a hunt as a way to try and work out their relationship away from the watchful eyes of their father. Also the boys felt that now early in John's pregnancy he and Bobby should have some time alone, to adjust to this new aspect of their lives. Dean was worrying over how to tell the older men that he and Sam were leaving when Bobby called him aside as John and Sam got ready for bed.
Bobby motioned for Dean to follow him into the yard.
"I have something that I wanted to ask you and Sam to do for me."
"We'll do anything, Bobby. You know that."
"Well, one thing that I'm sure of is that your Daddy isn't going to let this hunt for the demon die. Even pregnant he'd go after it if he turned up some lead on the damn thing. And I get stuck in the position of trying to protect him, and my kid. And in my way of thinking, right now that hinges on keeping him safe."
Dean smiled. "Yep, I don't envy you there. Dad's always been a real pain in the ass about maintaining the chain of command, with him at the top."
"I think I just about got him broke on that. I just make sure I stay on top," Bobby said with a grin. Dean flushed then shot the older man a look.
"But I know what you mean this plague thing has him shook up. And being pregnant is gonna keep him off balance for a while, but he'll adjust and then it'll be back to business as usual. So I got to figure out a way to keep him, well, off balance maybe. But I've got to be subtle. I mean John is about as subtle as the proverbial bull in a china shop, so you can sneak stuff past him 'cause he doesn't play that way. You boys probably figured that early on, especially you Dean."
"Yeah, you can snooker Dad, if you're quick. But it takes skill, Bobby. And I don't have as much to lose as you do."
"You're not kidding, my partner and my kid, all in one." Bobby sighed. "Which brings us back to why I got you out here. You and Sammy need a break away from the old man. He and Sam just rub each other the wrong way. I don't want John to miscarry and Sammy is never gonna relax enough for you two to even have a decent chance at making a kid. So I've been thinking about what happens when the kid is born and John gets antsy again. I think I've got it licked. Old friend of mine and your daddy's, Daniel Elkins, has a little item that I want to get my hands on. He's in Manning,
"Gun?" Dean asked frowning. Bobby nodded.
"Yeah, gun. It was made by Samuel Colt in the last days of the
"Including the demon?"
"That's what Elkins says. I want that thing here; just in case it comes for John or the baby, maybe even Sam too."
The last remnants of the nightmare faded as Bobby gasped and came awake. He was sweating, and shaking. In his mind’s eye he could still see the Impala crushed on the hood of a huge semi-truck. In the cab Dean lay in the back seat soaked in his own blood. Sam was behind the wheel, bleeding, head limp against the seat, and John was collapsed against the front passenger-side door his face slick with blood. Bobby rolled over bumping up against the warm body inhabiting the other side of his bed. He slid over until he was pressed closed against the younger man’s broad back. Working his hand under the comforter Bobby slid his fingertips beneath John’s t-shirt and pressed the palm of his hand against John’s still flat belly. The muscles of his abdomen contracted under Bobby’s gentle stroke. John slid onto his back.
Without saying a word Bobby leaned down letting his lips trial over John’s jaw, sliding over his lips until his tongue could delve inside. John sighed relaxing under Bobby’s fingers. When he had stopped shaking Bobby whispered against John’s mouth, “Johnny, I need to be inside you.”
With a smile John shuffled around until he could reach down and slip his underwear off. Bobby didn’t bother striping just pushed his boxers down hissing when John’s hands found his cock. John’s fingers worked him until Bobby was rock heard and dripping pre-come. He rolled on top of John pressing in. John was wet, hot and when Bobby slid inside it felt like coming home.
Bobby slid his hand between them grasping the hard length of John’s cock, lying tight against this belly. He knew that he was going to come fast, and he wanted to make sure that he took John with him.
Shaking from his orgasm John lay back cradling the other man on top of him, feeling Bobby’s body convulse with aftershocks. He was just beginning to grow uncomfortable from Bobby’s greater weight when he felt the older man shaking, and realized that Bobby was weeping. John stroked his back.
“Bobby, what’s wrong?”
“Johnny, promise me that you won’t leave. That when the time comes you’ll let me help you. You won’t go it alone.”
“Bobby, I can’t say…”
“No, you promise me John that you won’t leave, that you won’t go alone.”
“All right, I promise that when the times comes, when I go after the demon you’ll be with me.”
Dean loaded the last of their bags in the back of the Impala. Sam was still talking to Bobby at the front door of the house when John appeared carrying a cup of coffee. He looked at the car, then at Dean. Walking down the steps he ambled over to where his older son was sitting. Dean took a deep breath.
“You boys going on a job?” John asked.
Dean grinned nodding, hoping that he could keep a straight face. His father glanced at him from under his lashes and Dean felt his stomach clench.
John took another look at him. Suddenly Dean wished that he was anywhere but Bobby’s yard. He’d never been able to lie to his Dad outright and conning John took way too much effort.
“I have an old friend in
“Yeah, give me his number.”
Dean fished his cell phone out of his pocket. John looked at him again then smiled.
“555 673-2114. Name’s Elkins, Dan Elkins.”
Swallowing hard Dean shoved the phone in his jeans and turned to the porch.
“Come on, Sammy. We’re burning daylight.”
An elderly man sat behind the bar of a decrepit run down little roadhouse. He took a sip at the glass of amber colored liquor in front of him, and then turned as the waitress asked him a question.
Suddenly the door flew open with a bang; the few occupants of the room jerked around staring as the strangers entered. The three looked extremely out of place in the dim, rustic environs of the small out of the way bar. The woman was exquisitely beautiful dressed in tight leather than showed every curve of her body. The two men with her looked just as out of place, one tall and white with a grim face the other thick muscled and black, his bald head gleaming in the dim light. They stalked past the few tables seemingly headed straight for the bar, but when the lone waitress turned back to where the old man had sat, he was gone.
Elkins scurried through the streets not looking behind him. He made a sharp turn at the end of the pavement and climbed the dirt path to the cabin that was his home. He glanced around as he opened the door, but saw no movement anywhere.
He made it into the cabin, turning quickly to bolt the door behind him. Suddenly the door flew in and the woman from the bar stalked into the room. She smiled, slowly making sure to catch the old man’s attention. Her eyes flashed yellow in the dim light.
Licking her lips she smiled.
“It’s been a while; I gotta say you’re looking old.”
Cringing Elkins tugged a knife out of his pocket.
“What do you want?”
With a quick flick of the wrist the old man threw the knife underhanded. It struck the woman in the chest, and she glanced down with an annoyed expression on her face. Tugging the knife out of her breast she dropped it on the floor.
“What do you think?” she asked with a feral smile.
Elkins turned scrambling into the back room. With quick economical gestures he pulled a bookcase across the closed door and scurried to a wall safe. With trembling hands the old man worked the dial on the safe mumbling to himself,
“Come on…come on.”
The door to the safe sprang open and he pulled out a wooden box, with shaking hands Elkins tugged the box open, drawing out the pieces of an old fashioned revolver. He hastily assembled the gun then slid one of the bullets out trying to load the revolver.
With a crash the ceiling caved in and the two men from the bar dropped into the room. Elkins looked up with a cry dropping the gun. Suddenly the door banged open, caroming off the wall with a resounding crash. The old man dropped the gun as the two men closed on him bearing him to the floor. The woman walked over picking up the weapon.
Turning to Elkin she smiled again.
“Nice gun, what the hell good do you think it would do you though?”
Tossing the weapon aside she motioned the two men forward.
“Looks like we’re eating in tonight, boys.”
The three fell on the old man teeth glinting in the dim light; Elkins blood welled, spilling from under their mouths.
The Bluebell Diner had been a staple in Manning since it opened in 1945. The locals kept the place open and tourists supplemented it business. The 1967 Impala was a bit out of place in the parking lot, standing gleaming in the early morning sun.
The two young men in the front booth were just as much out of place. Sam grimaced as he scrolled down newspaper articles for the past few days. Finally, he tapped the screen.
“Here it is Dean. A local man, Daniel Elkins was found dead in his home the day before yesterday. Mauled by some unknown animal.”
Dean grunted sipping coffee.
“So much for Dad’s friend. We need to check the place out see what we can come up with.”
Dean lifted the yellow and black crime scene tape and pushed the remains of the front door of the cabin open. He ducked under the tape waiting while Sam followed him inside. He glanced at the fallen bookcase then caught sight of something on the floor. I t was a long wooden box. Inside the box was a blue velvet case with cut outs for a gun, something old fashioned from the looks of it. Along the bottom edge of the case were twelve slots containing bullets. One of the slots was empty.
Glancing around the dull gleam of metal caught his attention. With a grin Dean hurried to the fallen bookcase and shoved it aside. There on the dirty floor was a Colt revolver. It looked to be an antique but Bobby had said it was enchanted. Carefully Dean placed the gun back in the box then he and Sam left the cabin.
When they got back to the hotel Sam placed a call to Bobby. The older man answered the phone glancing back over his shoulder at John who was sleep on the couch in the living room.
“You boys find it?” Bobby asked quietly. He could hear the glee in Dean’s voice.
“Yep, got it. Sam and I are going to stay the night here, then head on back tomorrow. How are things on your end?”
“Fine and dandy. Let’s just keep this thing between us for now. No need for John to get involved.”
Sam came out of the shower still damp with moisture. His skin glimmered in the soft yellow light and Dean smiled appreciatively. Grinning he patted the bed beside him.
“We might as well kick back a little.”
Sam smiled he slid across the blankets and settled against his brother’s side. Dean brushed a hand up Sam’s arm then across his shoulder. With a flick of his wrist he scraped a nail gently over Sam’s lips. The younger man let his tongue slide out swiping the tip of Dean’s finger and the older man shivered. He leaned in letting his lips drift along the path that his finger had just taken. He stroked his tongue firmly over Sam’s mouth and he opened to Dean, letting his brother in.
Dean pushed Sam down on the bed, sliding a leg between his thighs. He pressed a kiss on his brother lips as Sam tugged the buttons loose on his shirt. Shrugging the garment off, Dean leaned in dropping a kiss on his the smooth expanse of skin. Sam rolled his head back eyes falling closed. Slowly Dean worked his way down Sam's chest, until he caught the tip of Sam's cock in his mouth. Sam shivered and worked his fingers into Dean's hair moaning. Dean worked his mouth up and down his brother's dick then dipped his tongue into the wet folds beneath. When Sam stiffened his back arching off the bed Dean grinned licking the warm juices that trickled over his chin. With a sigh Dean raised up sliding over the bed and pushing his knees between Sam's thighs. He sank into Sam's warm heat with a blissful look on his face. Sam grinned, pulling his brother down for a kiss. Dean rocked gently bringing them both to orgasm in a few minutes.
After the lights were out and Sam was snuggled in bed beside the warm, hard body of his brother he grinned. Dean had been right that was so much better than schedules and worry. It felt good, clean and perfectly right.